The Everards welcomed Lady Frances Highmore and her family over dinner three days later. And the morning after, she remained the topic over breakfast.

"I like her nose," Ysabella said with a smile.

Benedict knew his sisters were just starting. He could not trust Ysabella's suspiciously forced smile, nor Emma's overly done act of nonchalance, but he wanted to hear what they had to say about the woman.

"Her lips are—"

"—too thin," Emma finished Ysabella's statement in her most well-mannered tone. "Not that I don't like them, of course, Benedict," she hastily added.

"Her hair is almost white," Ysabella continued carefully, lips curled into her most behaved smile.

"She ought to eat more, I'm afraid," Emma provided further, her voice growing confident when Benedict made no comment as he ate.

"She is rather nice. Very soft-spoken—perfectly graceful," Ysabella added, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her assessing his reaction. "But that doesn't mean she is nice. We don't know her enough, and there is always room for doubt—Ow!"

Benedict swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin to hide his amusement as Ysabella glared across the table at Emma. "You kicked me. Why did you kick me?" she hissed.

His sisters' gaze flew to the corner of the breakfast room when they heard the soft clearing of a throat. They promptly straightened in their seats and resumed with their meals.

The governess, of course, he thought, sensing the woman's calm presence in one corner.

Letting Ysabella's comment slide, he asked, "Where are Mother and Margaret?"

"They went out to shop for gifts to bring to the Highmores. She is planning to call on Lady Highmore this afternoon so they can get to know each other more," Emma replied.

Benedict's jaw tightened. He had been afraid of this.

"Mother is going to do everything to make sure the Highmores would say yes. She must think you are not doing enough," Ysabella told Benedict with a chuckle.

"Are you regretting telling us about your courtship too soon?" Emma asked.

Benedict sighed, shaking his head, because his sister was completely right.

"Please excuse me, I will need a few moments to prepare before our lessons," Agatha spoke from her customary corner, ambling out of the dining room while Ysabella and Emma groaned in response.

Benedict's gaze followed the governess' stiff posture as she exited the room.

"Benedict, may I ask you a question?" Ysabella asked, drawing his attention back to the table.

He cocked an eyebrow. The twins asking permission to pose a question ought to be taken with caution. "Need you ask for permission?"

His sister eyed him dryly. "I'm trying to practice proper decorum, so yes, of course, I should ask."

He gave Ysabella a slight bow. "Of course, you may, my lady," he said, matching his sister's sarcastic tone.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, suppressing a giggle. This was perhaps one thing he missed whenever he was away in Devonshire—their devious laughter. "I would like to ask if a governess can marry a lord?" And this was perhaps one of the many reasons he enjoyed staying away in Devonshire—they always had something wicked in mind.

He could almost see the machineries running in his sisters' heads. "That would depend," he suspiciously replied. When they leaned closer, waiting for a more elaborate answer, Benedict explained, "The law does not prohibit marriage between two unmarried individuals. However, society standards dictate our behaviors."

"So, can a governess marry a lord?" Emma impatiently asked.

"If she holds a title, then yes, she could without potentially attracting society's disapproval."

"And if she isn't from a family with a title?"

"She will have to be rich."

"And if she's not?"

"She and her husband have to be brave."

"Because she will be frowned upon by society," Ysabella said, rolling her eyes.

"Simply because they think she is not their equal," Emma finished with a scoff. "Can she marry a middle class gentleman?"

"Society shall not mind, yes."

Ysabella and Emma looked at each other and smiled with excitement. Benedict frowned and studied them thoughtfully. "Are you planning to find your governess a husband?"

They started coughing, and he knew it would not stop until one or both of them had thought of the best reply. It was Emma who finally gulped and met his gaze. "If she wants one, why not?"

Benedict narrowed his eyes, and the twins grew anxious. "I was told she's leaving. Is this the reason for this matchmaking scheme?"

They blinked and shook their heads. He cocked one brow higher. The direction of their heads shifted, and they eventually nodded in unison. "She deserves to be married. She cannot spend her entire life as a governess, can she?" asked Ysabella.

Agatha Blair, wearing a wedding gown and walking down the aisle, was a picture Benedict could not easily conjure in his mind. "It's not your place to decide what Miss Blair does with her life."

"We're not going to force her to marry anyone, Benedict," Emma retorted, as if the roles had reversed and he was the one being reprimanded. "We merely wish for her to have a chance at a life far different from what she has now."

"What makes you think she doesn't like the one she has now? You're meddling in people's affairs again."

"No, we're not!" both ladies protested. "We aren't meddling in yours," Ysabella pointed out as Emma added, "We don't even tell you we're baffled that you offered for Lady Frances! I'd wager the other brothers would agree that she is not—"

Benedict finally had enough. He fixed his sisters a stern look, and they bit their lips in silence.

Frances Highmore was a respectable lady. In the recent weeks they had become better acquainted, he discovered she was going to be a good wife. "I will not tolerate any inappropriate remarks against Lady Frances," he warned his sisters, voice stern. "If you do something wicked, you shall be sent to Devonshire, and you will miss the entire season."

Their eyes shook in horror.

Satisfied that he had made himself clear, Benedict ordered, "Finish your breakfast. Someone here, other than your governess, ought to put you in your proper place. You are both seventeen and should behave and think maturely."

As he spoke, Benedict realized something. He had been constantly away in Devonshire in recent years that he had not fully grasped the fact that the twins had indeed grown into ladies. Whenever he came home to Wickhurst, it seemed nothing had changed because they always acted the same. But this year they were finally coming out into society. Soon, they, too, could very well be receiving offers. That, of course, would be another challenge he would have to face with his brothers.

"Nick and Ralph are older and they act like children. And matchmaking is not a game—" One look from him and Emma pursed her lips tight.

As the ladies quietly resumed their breakfast, Benedict wondered why they were so engrossed in matchmaking. The first of their many projects was the cook, who had taken a fancy to a baker in town. The two had married after a year. That was followed by two more servants marrying two of their footmen.

His sisters' fourth and most notable achievement was their fifth governess, Lady Belinda Carrington, now Haverston. After learning about the woman's story, Ysabella and Emma addressed a letter to McKenzie Haverston in Willowfair, informing him that their governess was marrying their eldest brother—him, Benedict—pushing the poor man to travel for two straight days on horseback to claim his lady.

Later, highly recommended by the Haverstons, Agatha replaced Belinda's position. And now, without her knowledge, the twins were hunting a husband for her.

He had never doubted his sisters' matchmaking skills until now because the chance they would fail with this one was quite high.

Agatha Blair was rather odd, in his opinion. Her observant eyes looked at things as though she was dissecting each part, and whenever they focused on him, it made him feel uncomfortable. She was too stiff and never carried herself to spark interest in anyone. There was no hidden mischief in her eyes, no hint of courage or even boldness. Her auburn hair was never askew, and her plain white, black, and gray dresses made her appear dull. She could very well stand against a wall and one would think she was one of the stone statues.

In the months the woman had been his sisters' governess, she had never spoken to him about anything of interest. During his brief visits in Wickhurst, their conversations, which he could count in his hands, and were always short, revolved only around the twins and their studies. In fact, he couldn't recall a single moment when she had spoken over three sentences at once in his presence. He always asked the questions, and she always replied with a "No, my lord," or "Yes, my lord," or 'They are doing well, my lord."

He had always found it curious why the females in the household, particularly the twins, seemed to like her, because in his opinion, Agatha Blair was an uninteresting woman. A governess had more privileges than the other staff, and the past governesses had indeed exploited those privileges, but never Agatha Blair. She never spoke when not spoken to, expressed no opinions on topics that could have improved his interest.

The fact that she was a servant before her education, with no dowry to her name, might make it difficult for her to find a husband. He might not express it to the twins, but he was looking forward to their first and greatest failure.

***

Agatha always made sure to only display her best manners to the Everards. If they knew how different she was in the past, they may throw her out in the streets.

As a servant in the past, she had a reputation for being both wise and outspoken, a combination that often caused her trouble. The Haverstons knew that very well, and in fact, it was Adrien Haverston, her former mistress' husband, who advised her to watch her manners.

"I'm not saying this because you've overstepped the line too many times with me, you little devil," the man had told her with amusement. "My wife and I may not care, but others will. In our society, it's one thing to be educated, but another to be well-mannered."

And once she mastered proper manners, she grew to like it.

She could easily forget her past by being the prim and proper governess for Emma and Ysabella. By stripping herself of her old self, she earned the approval of the Everards. Since then, she made sure she never slipped.

It was Mary Haverston who gave her a very good referral, and Agatha would never mar her previous mistress' good name by acting like an uneducated servant. She was a governess now, and if Lady Alice could give her a good referral, she could easily find an excellent post elsewhere.

Perhaps somewhere farther this time, she thought as she gazed at the mirror. She studied her face and practiced a small smile, staring at her brown topaz eyes until she scoffed at her silliness.

Good manners and a sharp mind would not make her appear good enough in the eyes of society. She could never have the grace of Frances Highmore. The woman was perfect in all ways a woman could. Lady Frances was gentry, born into riches, with her family owning the only two ruby mines that the Everard family had always wanted for centuries.

She stared at her long nose and her oval face, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. Everyone would always judge everyone's looks, even their own. Even an Everard was not spared of such trivial things. Last night was a good example. Frances Highmore's gaze traveled to Benedict's scars a few times during dinner. Did the scars bother her? And it wasn't just her. Lord and Lady Highmore, too.

Couldn't they see beyond the scars?

His eyes, for one, were beautiful. They had always captivated her, rendering his scars to mere light shades, almost absent. He may be boring, but Agatha knew he had more depth than most people thought. For one, he could talk about any subject as if he spent years studying them. He may not be charming like his brothers, but he was responsible and calm whenever a problem arose. His family may fear him, but they loved him all the same. While his words may sting when he was irked, his hands were never heavy. Emma and Ysabella had never taken a beating from him.

Agatha shook her head. Lady Frances had been kind, even asking for her name last night. She must have recognized Benedict's excellent traits, too. Otherwise, she would not be entertaining his courtship.

"Agatha!" Emma's voice startled her, causing her to jump on her feet and face the door. "Respite! Respite!"

Only Agatha and the twins knew what a respite meant. It was she who introduced it to them on her first day as their governess. With a respite, the three of them could drop the formality and proper decorum in private. But it could only be done twice a day and could only last for half an hour each.

"What is it?" she asked, alarmed.

"We need gowns."

Her brows knitted in a frown. "I don't think I'm the right person to—"

"We're not asking for your fashionable sense, of course," Ysabella said, stepping into her room. "We need gowns. Me, Emma, and you."

She blinked in confusion. "Me? Why?"

"You'll be our companion to the balls this season—of course, you need some."

"But I might not—"

"You are yet to find a new employer, yes?"

"Yes, but—"

"And you can find the perfect one this season! We can introduce you to some of Mother's acquaintances."

Well, now that they mentioned that...

Emma seized her hand and pulled her toward the door. "We should hurry. It's rare for Benedict to take us shopping!"

Benedict? "But—"

"We cannot allow our chaperone to be dressed in blacks and grays, Agatha," Ysabella insisted, nudging her out the door. "Not when this is our first season!"

***

"I want a velvet gown, and a yellow one and—"

"You will look old in velvet," Emma said to Ysabella.

Benedict closed his eyes, praying he could do the same with his ears. He should be home working, yet here he was, forced to face a trivial task that should be dealt with by his mother and Margaret. But the two had not returned since they went to the Highmores and, as his sisters claimed, it would take them another week to secure an appointment with Madam Vernice.

When he opened his eyes again, they landed straight on Agatha Blair. She had not said a word since they left, and as she sat beside Ysabella, her head leaned a little to the left, as if it would help muffle his sister's voice. And he realized he was doing the same, his body tilted away from Emma who was sitting beside him.

They looked ridiculous, and he thought to point it out, but when the governess' eyes wandered to him, Benedict looked away and straightened in his seat, finally saying, "A moment of quiet, please, the both of you."

When they arrived at Vernice Couture Shop, the twins bounded out with excitement. And for some stupid reason, Benedict had forgotten the governess was with them, and he almost closed the carriage door in her face.

"My apologies," he murmured, pulling the door back. He held out a hand to help her, but she did not take it and merely threw him a quick look before scurrying behind the girls.

Benedict blinked after her. Did she intentionally disregard his polite gesture? And was that a disapproving look?

The moment he entered the shop, the strong smell of perfume and fabric greeted him. There was only one settee inside, which Agatha had already taken. He reluctantly sat beside her as the twins talked with Vernice.

"My lord!" Vernice happily exclaimed when she saw him. "Are you back in town to see your sisters on their first season?" She was a large woman, and it took her merely three steps to approach him with an awkward curtsy. Benedict nodded. "I'm certain you're excited?"

Again, Benedict just nodded.

"He holds the money for the gowns, thus his presence today, Vernice," Emma said with a laugh from the center of the room.

Vernice faced his sisters, hands clasped on her chest. "Very well, then. Are you ready for your first season?"

"Well, not to hunt for a husband. But we love the idea of a season. We have always been curious!" Ysabella eagerly said. "The brothers don't share anything about their experience. Margaret does, but only a little when we force her."

Benedict knew why his brothers refused to share their experiences with the twins. Most of them were not for a proper lady's ears to begin with. He was almost afraid for their first season, honestly. And he knew his brothers were, too. They did not only have to guard them from men who may have bad intentions, but also from themselves because their impetuous nature might bring them trouble.

"You will have a lot to deal with once the season starts," he found himself saying to Agatha.

It took her a while to realize that he was actually addressing her. She cleared her throat and stole him a glance. "I'll have to endure, I'm afraid," she finally replied in a modulated tone.

Benedict could not think of another word to say, but the shop was rather small to do anything else, so he said, "I have been informed that you are considering finding a different employment."

"You were informed correctly, my lord."

"Margaret wants to have a lady companion, and she believes you are the best candidate. Why would you wish to leave?"

Agatha did not answer for a long time, causing Benedict to turn his head to look at her.

She was already staring at him and... Well, hell. Agatha Blair had the most stunning topaz eyes.

As though caught doing something she should not be doing, Agatha swung her gaze back to the twins. He was about to say something when his gaze dipped down to her mouth. They were full with a natural blush of rose. Though her nose was long and the base wide, Benedict found it complimented her features in an oddly satisfying way, but it also made him think something was missing. Something that would make it perfect. He just didn't know what.

He blinked and realized that she was talking, answering his question. "I studied to be a tutor, my lord. As much as I adore your sisters, I do not wish for my knowledge to go stagnant as a paid companion."

He let out a curt nod. "You're right," was his only reply, because he could not think of anything better to add. This was perhaps the longest conversation they ever had, and it was dying a natural death.

They sat in silence as his sisters started with their fittings. It was odd to sit beside someone who could remain as motionless as him. With most of his siblings, such was never the case.

"Benedict, what do you think?" Ysabella asked when she walked out in a cream dress.

"Good."

And that started the series of inquiries and curt replies.

Better.

It suits you.

No.

Should it not be the other way around?

"I don't think any of them suits us well," Ysabella said, shoulders sagging. "Look at his face," she added, pointing at Benedict.

Everyone looked at him, including Agatha. He sighed. "I'm the last person to ask about this, Ysa. And I didn't say it looks bad."

"Well, you don't look like you're willing to spend on them either," Emma said.

"I think everything you both tried, except the orange on Ysabella earlier, looked beautiful," Agatha spoke, throwing Benedict a silent look that said he should agree.

"I agree," he said.

"Now, now, ladies," Vernice said, standing before his sisters. "I would not have my excellent reputation if I don't provide the best. I assure you that the gowns you'll receive in the coming days will be nothing but stunning."

The twins slowly smiled. "Very well," Ysabella said. "We trust you. I will take all three. The orange is a no."

"I will get the three I've tried as well," Emma added.

"Are we going home now?" he asked Agatha, shifting his numb legs.

But before Agatha could reply, his sisters turned to her and said, "It's Agatha's turn now."

He froze and snapped his head in surprise to look at the governess. She had gone crimson, clearly embarrassed by the sudden attention.

Ysabella clucked her tongue and came to tug Agatha out of her seat to drag before Vernice. The modiste stared at Agatha with curious eyes, and Benedict did the same with more interest than he did with his sisters.

"This one definitely needs more color," Vernice said.

"She has a wardrobe filled with gray and black and white. Nothing else," Emma informed the modiste.

"She's our governess and will be our lady companion for the balls. She should have new gowns and dresses," Ysabella insisted. "Our brother shall pay for them, of course."

Benedict blinked. "I will?"

"N-No, he will not," Agatha protested with a tight smile.

"Of course, he will," his sisters chorused.

And when he saw Agatha open her mouth to start another protest, Benedict immediately said, "Very well."

Satisfied, the twins gave Vernice their own opinions about what to do and which colors to use. Agatha merely stood there, seemingly lost and speechless.

When Vernice pushed a green gown in her direction for her to try on, Agatha said, "I trust your exceptional talent, Madam Vernice, I don't need to try—"

"Agatha!" Ysabella and Emma growled in frustration.

Agatha stared at her two wards, her expression a mixture of desperation, frustration, and determination. "One hour of arithmetic."

"Fine."

"And another on science."

"Fine."

Agatha pursed her lips and finally nodded with a sigh before she turned and allowed Madam Vernice to take her to the back. She was gone for quite some time, and they could hear Vernice growl an order for her to let down her hair. "That's better, don't you think?" they heard Vernice ask.

"But—"

"Go out, now. Show them," Vernice ordered.

Emma and Ysabella straightened beside Benedict, excited to see their governess.

A part of him wanted to tell the woman to hurry along so they could go back to the manor, but a small part of him was curious. He hid it by crossing his arms over his chest, pretending he would rather be anywhere else than here.

And as though hearing his thoughts, Agatha Blair stepped out from behind the fitting partition clad in an emerald gown.

The twins gasped in unison.

Benedict's heart stopped.